Citizens for Limited Taxation & Government
"The Commonwealth Activist Network"
18 Tremont Street #608 * Boston, MA 02108
Phone: (617) 248-0022 * E-Mail: cltg@cltg.org
Visit our web-page at: http://cltg.org
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*** CLT&G Update ***
Saturday, July 19, 1997

Weekend greeting folks;

Truly it is "Them vs. Us" as never before. Elitist Republicrats and Demoplicans reign on Beacon Hill, deciding the future of the Commonwealth without accountability. As former Gov. George Wallace of Alabama, running as an independent candidate for the presidency years ago, once remarked, "there’s not a dime’s worth of difference between them."

Frank Phillips, State House bureau chief for the Boston Globe and a long-time Beacon Hill political observer, notes in his analysis below how the "Finneran’s Friends" Fourth of July Payraise symbolizes just how chummy the Beacon Hill pols have become these days.

My partisan Republican friends won’t like this rain on their parade very much, but the facts are the facts; they speak for themselves and must be recognized. GOP legislators once were our best hope and all that kept the majority Democrats in check. It sure would be nice to be able to count on them today. Unfortunately, too many of them have climbed into the Finneran tank—and it’s not just CLT&G who’s noticed. With most Democrats and far too many "Republicans" all wearing the same O.D. Green uniforms of Commander Finneran’s army, marching in lockstep to his every whim, you simply can’t tell them apart any more without an up-close inspection of their name-tags.

I can only hope this serves as a wake-up call for my Republican activist friends, because they deserve much better: If they’re going to work, contribute, and sacrifice for the success and advancement of the GOP, and Lord knows we need some competition up there on Beacon Hill, then they ought to be able to expect—they ought to *demand* -- something for their efforts besides a bunch of "go-along-to-get-along" self-interest politicians with "R" after their names worth "not a dime’s worth of difference" (with a few, too few, rare exceptions like Sen. Bob Hedlund).

Chip Ford
Co-director

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The Boston Globe
Saturday, July 19, 1997
News Analysis
Spirit of politics suffers in silence
By Frank Phillips
Globe Staff

As Speaker Thomas M. Finneran banged the gavel last week to send the House off for a long summer recess, he looked down at a chamber where his control is nearly absolute and the opposition confined to a few legislators he has successfully marginalized.

It has been a legislative session in which only those mired far outside the mainstream of power bothered to raise their voices; otherwise for Finneran, just the blessed silence of lambs.

Even the Republican lambs haven’t said much—mute even in the face of Finneran’s extraordinary move on the eve of Independence Day to jam through pay raises for 10 loyalists in an informal session, without debate or roll call.

In the past, such a maneuver might have triggered a revolt. But not in the silent spring, and summer, of 1997.

Finneran’s combination of power, and virtual immunity from challenge, would be the envy of former speakers like John F. "Iron Duke" Thompson and Thomas McGee, who ruled with equally firm and controlling hands but had to put up with some fierce opposition.

But it is not unique on today’s Beacon Hill, where the major political figures operate in a world where vocal opposition has become nearly and notably nonexistent. To an almost unprecedented degree, state politics is becoming non-partisan.

It isn’t just the Republican minority that is increasingly ineffective; the very spirit of opposition seems to have faded. Democrats hardly bother to attack Governor William F. Weld these days, even as his popularity soars at their expense. The old ideological divisions seem to be fading, grass-roots political activists have suffered chastening setbacks, and the state parties rarely have anything interesting to say.

To old warriors like Royall Switzler, it is a strangely changed political world.

"That is very distressing to me," said Switzler, a former Republican representative from Wellesley, who became a symbol of opposition to the Beacon Hill establishment in the 1980s.

"Both as a Republican and a citizen, it is the obligation of the minority to challenge the majority at any time," said Switzler, who persistently got under the skin of the Democratic leadership. "A lot of people, both Republicans and Democrats, have sold their principles and, with no checks and balances, there is no democracy. It is a serious trend."

But if it troubles the likes of Switzler, it is a welcome shift for legislative leaders, who are able to operate with comparative impunity, at least in terms of strong partisan and ideological opposition.

For Weld, the lack of political crosswinds frees him to ride a wave of popularity, unbuffeted by partisan quarrels. As a recent Globe/WBZ TV poll showed, he is increasingly popular, even though more than half of voters think he has lost interest in his job.

And the governor’s own voice, once a source of regular and pungent counterpoint to the Democrats, has been uncharacteristically faint for much of the year. On Tuesday, he recovered a bit of his old form as he teed off on US Senator Jesse Helms for holding up his hoped-for diplomatic appointment, but when it comes to the debate over state issues and concerns, Weld is still mostly absent from the fray.

As partisanship has dwindled inside the State House, the potency of grass-roots activists, and their media megaphones, has also faded. WKRO talk show host Jerry Williams, whose show in the late 1980s became a center for opposition to the Democrat-dominated Beacon Hill, has seen his ratings plummet and has been relegated to a few broadcast hours a week. Term limit proponents were handed a huge court defeat last week and forced to regroup.

And Barbara Anderson, the tax cut leader, is also looking to regain her footing. After surveying her members, Anderson is refocusing Citizens for Limited Taxation & Government back to its original mission of cutting taxes, moving away from structural changes like legislative pay and term limits.

Anderson said in all her 20 years of advocating her causes she has never seen such a lack of partisan spirit in state politics.

"The consequence is that the taxpayers have no representation on Beacon Hill," Anderson said. "There is no one to call in the House if you want to have a roll call vote. Finneran can do whatever he wants to do. He rules. Nobody will stand up to him."

The House leadership pay issue may have provided the best example of how things have changed on Beacon Hill. A small band of Democrats, led by Representative Christopher Hodgkins (D-Lee), tried at the start of the week to round up the necessary 20 votes to force a recorded roll call when the budget bill containing the raises comes back from the Senate.

But their efforts drew negligible interest from the Republican members - whose willingness to challenge Finneran begin to wane after they cast their lot with him in the speakship fight. And perhaps more to the point, two of the 10 pay raises went to GOP members.

The acquiescence of Minority Leader David Peters of Charlton inside the House was echoed by Weld, who was characteristically indifferent to internal legislative shenanigans.

Democrats, too, seem to have lost their partisan fire.

The Massachusetts Democratic Party chairwoman, Joan Menard, has occasionally criticized Weld, but usually only when prompted by reporters. That is in sharp contrast to the early 1990s, when then-chairman Steve Grossman, now chairman of the national party, was a persistent critic of Weld and his policies.

Anderson offered a theory for why politicians seem to have so little appetite for partisan warfare.

"Everyone is trying to get along because they are scared of the soccer moms," said CLT’s Anderson. "The perception is [that] women don’t like battling and screaming. The problem is that when all the politicians are getting along, nobody is looking after the public’s interest."

Hodgkins says he witnessed that distaste for partisan battles as he tried to round up votes to force a roll call on the pay raise issue.

"As much as there is no more public discourse, politics has gotten so personal," Hodgkins said. "Before, you could debate and laugh about it later, slap each other on the back. But try to get people to stand on a roll call vote - how dare you!"